


the end is where we begin

by the_crownless_queen



Series: and rewrite an ending or two [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Dead May Parker (Spider-Man), Endgame AU, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I was disappointed by Endgame so I'm fixing all the stuff I didn't like, Peter Parker Has Panic Attacks, Peter Parker Lives, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), no beta we die like men, or wanted different
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:47:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22229662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_crownless_queen/pseuds/the_crownless_queen
Summary: "Mr. Stark, something’s wrong.”“What is it?” Mr. Stark asks, but Peter doesn’t have the chance to answer before everything gets so horribly worse.It’s over in an instant and it feels like it lasts forever, but for an instant, Peter could swear that the universe just… shudders.Peter’s next words — what would they have even been, he wonders — die in his throat as their newfound allies/friends just… crumble into dust and float away on the wind.Peter almost expects he’ll vanish too, and Mr. Stark’s sudden hold on his arm is so desperate and tight it’s almost painful, but no, he stays.:: Peter lives.
Relationships: Harley Keener & Peter Parker, Harley Keener & Tony Stark, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Pepper Potts, Peter Parker & Steve Rogers, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: and rewrite an ending or two [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1600132
Comments: 32
Kudos: 199





	1. it just happened this way

**Author's Note:**

> I just love the mcu a lot even though I wish a lot of stuff had gone differently... Endgame gave me feels that made me plot this kinda canon compliant AU (except for the dead people who didn't die because I needed them alive for plot reasons). It's gonna be a fix-it... eventually.
> 
> Hope you guys like this :)
> 
> Titles are taken from The End Is Where We Begin by Our Lady Peace.

Titan is silent after Thanos leaves. Too silent. Questions buzz on Peter’s tongue, but he doesn’t dare be the first one to speak, the moment feels too solemn for that.

And perhaps that’s why he doesn’t realize the sick feeling in his stomach isn’t  _ just _ from the fight they’ve just lost.

(That, even more than their sudden space-adventure, feels surreal. The Avengers lost.

They’re the  _ Avengers _ — they’re not supposed to lose.)

“Mr. Stark,” Peter says urgently, the words sticking to his throat like tar. Peter licks his lips, tensing as everyone tiredly resumes a fighting position. “Mr. Stark, something’s wrong.”

“What is it?” Mr. Stark asks, but Peter doesn’t have the chance to answer before everything gets so horribly worse.

It’s over in an instant and it feels like it lasts forever, but for an instant, Peter could swear that the universe just…  _ shudders. _

Peter’s next words — what would they have even been, he wonders — die in his throat as their newfound allies/friends just… crumble into dust and float away on the wind.

Peter almost expects he’ll vanish too, and Mr. Stark’s sudden hold on his arm is so desperate and tight it’s almost painful, but no, he stays.

“What… What just happened?” Peter finally manages to ask, even though the words feel too big for his lips.

“I don’t know, kid,” Mr. Stark replies. He doesn’t let go of Peter’s arm, and his eyes are wild and afraid.

Peter’s never seen him look so afraid — heroes aren’t supposed to be afraid — and that, more than anything that’s happened already, makes  _ Peter _ afraid.

“I don’t know,” Mr. Stark repeats. he looks about to add something else, but his face contorts in pain and he clutches at his stomach with his free hand.

Abruptly, Peter remembers that Thanos ran him through with a sword and he flails, torn between the reflex to put pressure on the wound — that’s what people are supposed to do on stab wounds, right? — and stepping away so he doesn’t make it worse.

He ends up doing a bit of neither, and Mr. Stark hisses in pain as they stumble into a semi-sitting position.

“Shit,” Peter swears, before he realizes what he’s said and tries to backpedal. “I mean, er, shoot?”

Thankfully, Mr. Stark only chuckles weakly. “Yeah, not gonna lecture you about language right now, kid. In case you haven’t noticed, the situation is pretty fucked up. Also,” he adds, almost as an afterthought, “that’d be pretty hypocritical of me.”

His eyes widen. “Not that, of course, you should swear. Or tell your aunt. She’d probably murder me.”

On any other occasion, Peter would probably find something clever to quip back — he’s really good at those, actually — but it’s all he can do to nod because suddenly he’s thinking about Aunt May, alone back on Earth, and what if she never knows what happened to him?

“Hey, come on, she’ll be fine,” Mr. Stark says, finally letting go of his arm to awkwardly pat his shoulder.

… Right. He’s just said that out loud, hasn’t he?

Peter clears his throat and looks away. Still, though, he can’t resist but ask, “Do you really think so?”

“Well, at the very least I’m sure the news saw you  _ very recklessly _ get on that ship with me, so she’ll know what happened?”

Peter spins back around to shoot him an incredulous look, only to catch Mr. Stark wincing sheepishly.

“Right, sorry, that sounded more reassuring in my head.” Mr. Stark sighs. He looks older suddenly, and Peter is very suddenly reminded that Mr. Stark just got hit by an actual  _ moon _ and then got stabbed before whatever it was that made the Guardians crumble up into dust.

Peter may panic a little. Again.

(It’s a good distraction.)

“Should I…” He gestures toward Mr. Stark’s stomach, and then his web-shooters. He’s never tried using his webs on open wounds but he’s pretty sure blood does belong  _ inside _ the body, and he’s not sure what remains of the Iron Man armor is exercising enough pressure for that.

“I don’t think that’s the best idea,” Mr. Stark replies dryly, sounding more like himself.

Peter exhales a sigh in relief. “Right. Right. So, erm, what now?” He looks toward the donut-shaped ship they crashed in. “Because I’m pretty sure we can’t use  _ that _ to go back to Earth.” He frowns, fear tightening its grip around his heart. “We are getting back to Earth, right? Because I don’t think I’d do well on an alien planet, Mr. Stark.”

“We’re getting back to Earth,” Mr. Stark replies, rolling his eyes. “But… it might take a while.”

Peter pauses for a few seconds, before shrugging. “Well, I was promised a field trip.”

His nonchalance is mostly faked, but it does surprise a laugh out of Mr. Stark, which makes Peter laugh too, and for a moment, the atmosphere lightens enough that it’s easier to breathe.

That things don’t seem quite as hopeless.

“If you two are quite done…” The voice startles them out of their laughter, and Peter startles and raises his hands defensively, heart racing, only to find the blue-skinned lady that fought with them earlier.

He perks up, shoulders lowering in relief. “Oh, you’re Nebula, right?”

“Yes,” she replies tensely. “Now come on, we need to go.”

The implicit threat in her voice has Peter jump to his feet before he realizes it — he saw her fight earlier and she was  _ terrifying _ .

Mr. Stark painstakingly gets to his feet, clutching his stomach. “Where are we going?” he asks suspiciously.

“Quill’s ship.” Nebula nods in what Peter assumes to be the direction of said ship, and starts moving without waiting for them.

Peter shoots a worried look toward Mr. Stark, but the man’s already moving, so Peter follows.

It’s not like they have anything better to do, really.

Or  _ anything to do, _ at all.

“So, er, what happened exactly? With the, you know...” Peter gestures a poof with his hands, but the gesture falls flat because remembering how they’d looked as the crumbled to dust — when moments ago they had been  _ there, _ and  _ alive _ — makes him feel sick.

Nebula doesn’t slow down, or turn back, but her shoulders tense up. “My father won,” she says. “Assembled the stones. Reshaped the universe in the way he saw fit.” She sounds bitter and hateful.

“... He really just, killed half the universe then?” That’s too big to even fully comprehend. Peter’s mind balks at the numbers — half of all life, gone? Surely that can’t be an actual thing.

And yet… Aliens invading New York. A wizard, seeing the future. Peter, going to space. Mr. Stark, losing.

So many impossible things have happened already. What’s one more?

So Peter falls silent, and follows their guide.

* * *

If he’s entirely honest with himself, Peter hadn’t thought they’d survive the trip off Titan. The Guardians’ ship is hardly fit to be called that anymore, even now, after repairs, and Peter had spent take-off certain it would fly off at the seams and he would get sucked off into space.

Again.

_ Maybe that’d be better, _ his shell-shocked mind had whispered.  _ At least then you’ll never know what happened back on Earth, who might have… _

Peter had been unable to finish the thought. Even the mere  _ idea _ of Ned, or Michelle or Aunt May — god, what would he do without Aunt May? — is enough to make his eyes sting and his knees go weak.

But the ship had held. It's still holding now, even, for all the good that does them when food and oxygen are running out, and there probably isn’t anyone left to build a rescue —  _ if _ they even knew a rescue was needed.

Peter had only found the courage to ask once, and Mr. Stark had told him, “Of course, we’ll be fine, somebody will find us”, but Peter knows adults well enough to tell when one is lying to him.

He doesn’t ask again.

He doesn’t want to find out if Mr. Stark will lie again if he does.

So since they can’t really do anything but wait, they play games to pass the time. It’s actually kind of fun, if they ignore the heartbreaking implications of Nebula not knowing any game that doesn’t imply sparing to the death, but that just means it’s an even better distraction for Peter to throw himself into.

As long as they’re playing, he can fool himself into not thinking about them  _ losing. _

God, Peter can't believe they've lost — he’s an Avenger now. The Avengers aren’t supposed to lose.

"I'm sorry," Peter blurts out on day eleven, when no amount of playing can get his brain to stay  _ quiet. _

Nebula quickly averts her eyes and slinks off somewhere else, and Mr. Stark stares at him like  _ Peter _ has gone insane, which, unfair.

"What for, kid?" he finally asks.

Peter swallows, his fingers twitching anxiously. "I'm sorry," he repeats. "You were right. I shouldn't have come. I should, I should have —” His eyes start to burn and his vision blurs, and suddenly, Peter feels like he can’t breathe.

God, why can’t he breathe?

“— _ er, Peter, —the _ — _ ” _

Dimly, he’s aware of sliding onto the floor, and then someone grabbing his hand and placing it somewhere — a chest, maybe?

_ “Come on, kid, breathe with me. In, and out. Come on, you can do it. I know you can.” _

The voice seems distant somehow, but Peter does his best to follow, and eventually, the world feels real again.

His cheeks are wet and warm, but he mostly feels cold and shivery. He grimaces. “Sorry.” He blushes when he realizes his hand’s still on Mr. Stark’s chest. “You can let go. I’m fine now.”

“Are you?” Mr. Stark frowns. His eyes are kind but sharp as they scan Peter, and Peter’s breath almost catches in his chest because they look a little like Uncle Ben’s, when Peter woke him up from a nightmare, and Aunt May’s, and the few memories he still had of his fa— 

Yeah, Peter’s not going there.

Instead, he exhales slowly.

“I’m fine,” he repeats, and he tugs his hand out of Mr. Stark’s grasp.

Luckily, the man seems to sense he doesn’t want to talk about it, because he just hums and stands up again, before offering Peter a hand.

“Come on,” he says with a grin. “Game’s not over yet.”

As if she was summoned, Nebula returns, and they all take their seats again.

It’s almost like nothing happened. Almost.

* * *

The thing is, Peter tries very hard not to lose hope. He’s alive, Mr. Stark is alive — Nebula’s alive too, and Peter feels like he knows her a little better with every passing day — and they’re even aboard a semi-viable  _ spaceship _ floating toward Earth.

Of course, the current calculations would have them reach it in a few centuries, which is far past the point where food and oxygen would have run out, but space is actually not that empty.

There’s plenty of planets between here and Earth, and plenty of other ships, probably.

The point is, their odds of getting rescued are low, yes, but they’re not  _ zero. _

And really, the Avengers are very good at those odds.

Well, they are, usually.

So yes, Peter tries not to lose hope. Keep it alive, as it is.

But the days pass and their supplies dwindle, and no amount of cannibalizing parts of the ship and their suits is enough to repair enough of the ship to truly get it working again, even if it does help filter the air and run that odd food generator thing sometimes.

And Peter doesn’t even realize it, but at some point, he'd just stopped hoping somebody would come for them (they’d sent a message, rigged with the ship’s comms systems, but that had been weeks ago).

There is nothing for them to do but wait to die, really, and it isn’t fair because if they could get off this ship and back to Earth, Peter knows they could be doing  _ something, _ that they could be helping, but they  _ can’t. _

Peter doesn’t want to die. He doesn’t want Mr. Stark to die, or Nebula to die, and he wants to see his friends and family again.

He’s tired, though, and cold, and hungry. Maybe if he rests a little, he’ll feel better.

Maybe he’ll…

…

And then, someone _does_ come for them.


	2. and everything is ruined

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s night outside, and there are people waiting for them, but right now, Peter doesn’t care because he’s breathing real, non-recycled air again, and he’s standing on actual grass, and they’re not dead.  
> He feels like crying.  
> Maybe he’s crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... This was a much longer break than I meant it to be :/ Sorry about that, but life got crazy (I have an actual job now! One step closer to being a proper adult and all that!) and then it got even crazier...  
> Anyway, here's the chapter :) I hope you guys like it -- and thank you so much for all your kudos and comments and bookmarks last time, it really means a lot :)  
> Stay safe out there!!

Peter honestly doesn’t recall much after the flying lady —  _ a flying shining lady in  _ **_space!!_ ** _ , because this is a real thing now — _ appears in front of the cockpit and flies them back to Earth.

It seems like one moment he’s about to fall asleep — in retrospect, probably a bad idea because he’s not sure he’d have woken up from that — and the next the ship is touching down on solid ground.

He hovers between Mr. Stark and Nebula in a weird ‘I support you you support me and we try not to take each other down’ way that he’d probably laugh at on a normal day as they slowly exit the ship.

It’s night outside, and there are people waiting for them, but right now, Peter doesn’t care because he’s breathing real, non-recycled air again, and he’s standing on actual grass, and they’re not dead.

He feels like crying.

Maybe he’s crying.

Mr. Stark’s hold on his arm tightens painfully as they come to a stop, and Nebula splits off to the side to talk to a… raccoon?

Peter blinks and shakes his head. Probably a hallucination, if he’s honest with himself — though there are been crazier things? So who even knows.

“Steve,” Mr. Stark says, and Peter startles to realizes that while he’d been lost in thought,  _ Captain America _ had stepped up to them.

“Tony,”  _ Captain America _ replies, his eyes wide and worried. “How are…” He cuts himself off to look at Peter, frowning. “Spiderman, right?”

Peter nods, unsure of what else he’s supposed to do.

Luckily, he doesn’t really have to think about it, because Mr. Stark and Mrs. Potts reunite tearfully and Peter has to awkwardly stand there, trying not to look at them because it feels too private for him to witness.

He looks at Captain America instead — and yeah, Peter stole his shield once, but somehow it’s different meeting him now, in a not-battle type of situation — and finds the man looking at the reunion happening beside them.

He seems happy and yet oddly sad about it, before he drags his eyes away and focuses on Peter.

“Come on, son. I’ll take you to the infirmary — I don’t think you should keep standing.”

“Oh thank god,” Peter blurts out, instantly flushing red and wishing the ground could just open up. “I mean, thank you?”

Cap (is Peter allowed to call him Cap?) laughs, and then seems surprised by it. “You’re welcome.”

* * *

Peter doesn’t know if it’s because of this enhanced metabolism — yay for radioactive spider bites — or just that the Avengers Compound has truly excellent medical facilities, but after a shower, a (long) nap and whatever is in that IV they got in him, he feels almost human again.

Well, he’s still exhausted and famished, but really, that’s just normal teenage life.

(It’s not, obviously. He’s lost enough weight that he looks pretty much like an actual zombie, and he feels so weak he’s surprised he managed to  _ walk _ to the infirmary. He may not know much about medicine, but Peter does know enough to know that it isn’t good, or normal.)

But he does feel well enough to sneak out of the infirmary to get answers. Mr. Stark’s still in there, sleeping, and Peter’s reluctant to leave pretty much the only person he actually knows behind, but he can’t fall back to sleep, and staring blankly at the ceiling or the walls is driving him insane.

So he sneaks out.

Captain “call me Steve” America finds him approximately ten minutes later, staring at a large screen where a picture of his aunt, captioned with the words 'still missing', floats. 

He puts a hand on Peter’s shoulder. it’s heavy and warm, and it makes Peter want to cry.

"She might still be out there," Steve says. "Don't lose hope. With all the chaos out there... We don't know what we might learn. Who we'll still find." He squeezes Peter’s shoulder, and when Peter turns around, his lips are quirked up into a small smile. “We didn’t know we’d ever get Tony back, or you, or Nebula. She might still be there,” he repeats.

Peter's throat burns. "But what if..." He can't finish the thought. Words tangle in his throat and he has to blink away tears. Steve's hand tightens sympathetically on his shoulder.

Steve huffs. "Tony will take care of you. He won't leave you behind, you know." 

Peter wishes he could be so sure — not that he thinks Mr. Stark would abandon him or anything, but… Peter failed, back on Titan. They had a plan and Peter had  _ almost _ gotten the glove off of Thanos’s hand, and…

(The point is, it’s his fault they’ve lost — and if Aunt May is… gone, then that’s his fault too. Just like with Uncle Ben.)

“Hey, it’s not your fault. None of this is your fault,” Steve says. 

“But I —”

Steve squeezes his shoulder. “Look, Tony said he made you an Avenger, and that means you’re part of a team. We  _ all _ failed here — it’s nobody’s fault, because we’re all responsible. And,” he smiles kindly, “I’m sure you did all you could.”

Throat suddenly too tight for words, Peter nods weakly.

His eyes drift back in the direction of the makeshift infirmary they'd put Mr. Stark in. Peter should be there too still, but he’d been feeling better (and he couldn't stand to stay there anyway, staring at Mr. Stark's unmoving body) and he'd needed to know about Aunt May, and about his friends.

Now... Now Peter wishes he would have waited. He hasn’t found any trace of his friends either — the computer has them listed as missing, just like Aunt May, and no matter what Steve claims, Peter knows it’s been  _ weeks _ since the Snap.

If they were still out there, there’d have been some type of sign.

Peter shakes his head to try to dismiss the thought — not that it works, of course — and squares his shoulders before looking back at Steve.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

For a long, tense moment, the man doesn’t answer. Finally, he sighs. “You can rest. Get better. You and Tony were in pretty bad shape.”

He doesn’t say that them coming back at all was pretty much a miracle, but Peter hears it anyway.

He crosses his arms. “I’m feeling much better now,” he replies mulishly. “I want to help. I-if, if I can, of course,” he blusters at the end, feeling his cheeks heat up as he just realizes  _ who _ he’s talking to.

(Honestly, this was much easier in the suit, where nobody could see his face.)

Steve sighs and mutters something Peter can’t quite catch — though it sounds like ‘Tony’s going to kill me’. “Fine,” he says, his eyes shadowed. “You’ve met Thanos, right?”

“On Titan, yes.” Peter nods, his throat tight.

Steve nods back absently. “Well, we could use any intel you have on him. We got Tony’s and Nebula’s versions already, but we could always use yours too.”

Peter blinks. He’s about to reply that he probably won’t be able to add anything new compared to  _ Iron Man _ and the badass alien lady when he realizes that Steve’s probably just trying to keep him busy, and away from the screen telling him everyone he knows is probably dead.

He swallows back the words. “Alright!” he says, forcing himself to sound cheerful.

It rankles a bit, to be babied like this, but Peter’s too relieved to step away from May’s picture to truly care.

And that’s how Peter ends up sitting in at an Avengers’ meeting as they discuss Thanos and the infinity stones and what happened.

* * *

_ Well, they do say that you should never meet your heroes, _ Peter thinks somewhat hysterically as he watches this pseudo-Avengers meeting dissolve into chaos.

He’s pretty sure they’ve actually forgotten he’s there, to be honest. They’re nothing like the team he saw blurry pictures of after the battle of New York, nothing like the heroes he’s idolized since he knew what heroes could do.

They look about as lost as Peter feels, but there is still a fire, an anger about them that Peter recognizes from what burns in his own chest.

He just doesn’t understand why they can’t seem to just… work together instead of trying to pass the blame around.

Steve’s just told him  _ Peter _ wasn’t to blame for this, that they  _ all _ lost, but it feels like he hasn’t told anyone else the same thing, because the tension in the room is thick enough that a knife probably wouldn’t be enough to cut through it.

Mr. Stark looks angrier and more hurt than Peter’s ever seen, and Steve is looking more and more defeated, and when Peter looks around the room  _ nobody _ seems to be planning to interfere.

It isn’t right.

He clears his throat.

“So, erm, I thought we were here to talk about Thanos and how to fix… well, everything?” His voice breaks on the last part, and as everyone’s gaze turns to him, Peter can feel himself wilt.

Honestly, some type of invisibility power would be very welcome right now. 

Alas.

“The spider-child is right.” Thor’s voice, despite its steadiness — or perhaps because of it — booms through the room, making Peter’s heart jump in his chest in surprise.

“It’s just Peter, really,” he mumbles, wistfully wishing he still had a secret identity to protect.

“We have no time for petty quarrels,” Thor continues. “We —”

Mr. Stark snorts loudly, letting out a bitter laugh. His whole body is shaking — still or suddenly, Peter doesn’t know, but the sight makes panic flare brightly in his chest — as he says, “This isn’t a  _ ‘petty quarrel’, _ Thor. This is…” He looks at Steve and shakes his head. “I don’t trust you.”

_ “Tony…” _ Steve looks like he’s been struck. He reaches forward, but Mr. Stark takes a step back. 

“No, I  _ can’t _ trust you,” Mr. Stark corrects, lips curled into something half-sad half-mad. “I told you — I told all of you this would happen, that we needed —” His voice breaks and he swallows nervously. “That we needed to do  _ more, _ and you said  _ we _ would be enough.”

Mr. Stark laughs bitterly again, his eyes flaring bright with anger as he waves around the room with the hand that isn’t clutching at his IV. “Well guess what,  _ Steve? _ We weren’t enough!”

“We weren’t enough,” he repeats, and his voice cracks into a sob this time.

Peter’s moving before he can think about it, but Steve was closer, and he pulls Mr. Stark into a hug that makes Peter’s chest ache.

Needless to say, their meeting is postponed for the time being.

* * *

In the end, there isn’t really much Peter can tell them about Thanos, or Titan, that Mr. Stark and Nebula can’t. Peter tries not to feel too useless or bitter over it, but it’s hard. For a brief moment, he had a purpose again, and now it feels like he was robbed of it, left to flounder.

He doesn't get to go with them when they go to kill Thanos — even if he  _ is _ an Avenger now.

Mr. Stark doesn’t get to either, of course — he still can barely stand up — but Peter feels  _ better. _ He could… He could…

Just because he failed the last time, doesn’t mean he would  _ this _ time, okay?

He gets to watch the team leave, though, gets to watch them pile up inside the Guardians’ ship — fixing it once they’d gotten back to Earth had been ridiculously easy for how hard a time they’d had aboard it before — and fly away.

And then he goes back inside, because the sky is too empty now, and watching it makes him feel  _ more _ useless.

* * *

Mrs. Potts — “call me Pepper” — finds him lingering outside Tony’s door.

Well, if by "finds him" he means “runs into him as she leaves the room”.

“Peter!” she exclaims, her eyes widening in shock for a moment before settling into a gentler smile. “I didn’t see you there, sorry.”

Peter runs a sheepish hand through his hair and shakes his head. “It’s fine,” he replies, awkwardly trying to pretend like he’s not trying to peek into the room around her back.

From Pepper’s amused smile, he’s rather unsuccessful. “Tony fell asleep,” she tells him, her smile taking an apologetic turn.

“Oh.” Peter can feel his shoulders deflate. “I’ll just…” He tries to gesture that he’ll go back where he came from, or to his room, except his room is still in Queens, and what he has here right now is technically still a bed in the infirmary.

It’s the nicest bed he’s ever slept on, really, and it does come with a room, but it’s still not  _ his. _

Pepper shakes her head fondly at him — which Peter is trying not to find too weird, because they barely know each other and she’s  _ Pepper Potts _ (MJ would  _ freak _ — and had, when Peter had mentioned he kinda knew her) — and gestures at him to follow her. “Come on. We can go grab something to eat.”

Peter’s about to protest that he’s not really hungry, but his stomach seems to think otherwise, because it rumbles loudly.

He follows her quietly after that, his cheeks burning.

“I never thanked you, have I?” Pepper says as they walk, and Peter doesn’t even realize she’s talking to him at first.

“Huh?”

“For helping Tony,” she adds. “For bringing him back.”

Peter’s steps falter and his cheeks burn even hotter. “Oh, er, I didn’t really do anything — I mean, I kinda just…” He shrugs. “... went along with it? Mr. Stark was really the one who did everything. Well, he and Nebula. They made the ship work and everything. I didn’t really… do anything.”

His throat is suddenly too tight and he swallows, scuffing his shoes and looking away.

Blessedly, they’ve reached the kitchen/refectory, and Peter grabs the distraction of heading straight for the fridge with open arms.

Perhaps if his mouth is full of — what is that even, some kind of string cheese? good enough — Pepper will change the subject.

Of course, Peter’s luck has never been that good.

“That’s funny,” Pepper says, her lips quirked up into a small but fond grin as her eyes dart back toward the way they came from (where Mr. Stark is), “because Tony said the same thing about you. That you were, hmm, ‘instrumental’ in getting everyone back here safely.”

She arches an eyebrow at him pointedly, and Peter swallows around a mouthful of cheese that is suddenly not quite so flavorful. His cheeks burn red.

“I — er, really?” His voice squeaks too loudly, and Peter winces at the sound. “He said that?”

Pepper hums. “Yes. He did. And I’m inclined to believe him — I know what you’re capable of, remember?”

Idly, Peter wishes the ground would just… open and swallow him. A quick death sounds nice right now — and then he winces again, because could he be more insensitive right now?

He swallows again. “Right,” he says through suddenly dry lips. He casts his eyes around the room — water, he needs water.

“Here,” Pepper says, handing him a glass as though she'd read his mind.

Peter gapes. “Did you…?” He doesn’t quite ask, but his pointed look must speak for him because Pepper laughs and shakes her head.

“No, I didn’t read your mind — you just looked thirsty, is all.” Her lips are quirked up again, smiling at a joke he’s not aware of, and Peter tries to resist the urge to pout as he accepts the water.

“It wouldn’t be the weirdest thing that’s happened,” Peter points out with a semi-apologetic shrug, and Pepper smiles again, nodding.

“True.”

Silence settles over them like a soft blanket as Peter sips at his glass, trying to make it last and not look like he’s aiming to leave the room as quickly as possible.

He doesn’t think he has Pepper fooled — Tony’s warned him before that she was formidable, but it’s never seemed truer than now, as she eyes him with piercing eyes that won’t let him hide.

Finally, the water runs out, and Peter sets down the empty glass on the counter. It clicks loudly against the metallic material, and Peter can’t hold back a tiny flinch.

“You seem worried,” Pepper states softly.

“I…” Peter wrings his hands, wishing he’d kept the glass — at least holding it had given his hands something to do. “Of course I’m worried!”

It comes out harsher than he meant it to, and he flinches backward in apology, his cheeks turning red again.

Luckily, Pepper doesn’t seem offended as she waves off his apology with a half-smile again.

She looks tired, he realizes suddenly, and something in his stomach twists as it dawns on him that she’s worried too.

And just like that, he feels like he can talk to her — like maybe she’d understand.

“I just… We  _ lost everything, _ and earlier all they could do was fight each other when they should have been fighting this Thanos guy, and I just don’t understand why they couldn’t just see that?!”

Pepper sighs tiredly, looking away for a moment as she twirls the ring on her finger.

“Steve and Tony… It’s complicated.”

Peter frowns. “That’s not an explanation, that’s a Facebook status,” he mumbles out, unimpressed.

Pepper huffs out a laugh. “If only things were that simple,” she answers, shaking her head. “But no, it’s just… There’s a lot of history between them, and not all of it good. Wounds that haven’t healed right, I think — not yet, at least.” She shoots him a conniving look. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but both Tony and Steve can be rather stubborn.”

Peter snorts in agreement despite himself, and his eyes widen in horror as soon as he realizes he’s done it.

Luckily Pepper didn’t seem to expect another reaction, because she only nods. “They’ll be fine, though.” She winces. “Well, eventually. Probably.”

She seems to need the reassurance, and that’s the only thing Peter can give right now, so he nods along. “They will. They’re  _ heroes, _ I’m sure they can deal with… whatever is going on with them.”

Pepper laughs. “They can, yes,” she agrees.

It feels a little bit like hope.

(And then the team comes back, looking even more defeated than they'd been when they'd left.

“What happened?” Peter asks, but just like he knew they had lost when he’d seen the Guardians fall apart on Titan, he already knows what happened here, and he feels sick for it.

Somehow, Peter hadn’t even realized how much of his hope he’d still be clinging to until right now, as he feels the last of it die.

They’ve truly lost this time.)


	3. and the winds will lead us somewhere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahah, surprise this isn't abandoned and I'm not dead? and also whoops I can't believe this took me so long to write. I'm pretty sure I've switched fandoms like 5 times since chapter 2, so here's hoping this is still coherent, because as it turns out time has not made me less mad about endgame XD
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy this, and thanks to everyone who read/kudosed/commented or bookmarked this story, you guys rock ^^

When days pass and there is still no news of May, Tony quietly moves her to the list of the dead. Holding out hope for so long felt foolish, really — they won’t get that kind of happy ending — but it was worth it, if only for the way the kid’s eyes lit up, just a little, when he sat next to Tony as they ran a scan of the declared survivors.

That light has been getting dimmer and dimmer though, and now Tony can clearly tell Peter is barely even fooling himself anymore, if he ever truly was.

“What will I do?” Peter asks, his tone more terrified and dejected than Tony’s ever heard him — god, he’s so  _ young _ — and Tony fakes a smile for his sake as he pats him on the shoulder.

It’s awkward — he’s not used to expressing his feelings outside of life-or-death situations, and he’s still unbearably weak — but the kid perks up nonetheless, and something in Tony’s chest twists.

Or un-twists, maybe. It’s hard to tell these days.

Maybe that’s why he just blurts it out like this. “You can stay with me. Us.” Tony almost wants to take it back, because he’s in no shape to take care of anyone — god, the last time he tried he probably traumatized the kid forever — but Peter’s eyes fill with tears and he looks so goddamn hopeful that Ton can’t.

He just can’t.

He slides his arm around the kid’s shoulders before Peter can start to protest — because the kid will, since he’s apparently never learned to accept a kind thing in his life and has self-worth issues to rival even Tony’s.

It’s also because starvation is not fun for the body. Who knew, right? Weeks of a normal diet and lying down and Tony still gets dizzy if he stands up too quickly or too long, and he still feels like a stiff breeze might knock him over.

He hates having to rely on the kid like this, but apart from maybe Bruce and Pepper, Peter’s the only one he trusts around here.

Of course, the kid would probably jump at the chance to help him out, Tony thinks fondly.

Still, flying the suit again feels like a distant daydream — not that Tony deserves to these days, not after letting half the universe die.

“Come on,” he says, “let’s see if we can’t find Pepper somewhere around here to help us make this more official.”

He could ask Friday to do it, obviously, but something tells him Peter would probably appreciate a more humane touch here.

See? He  _ can  _ learn.

Tony starts walking, tugging Peter along, who thankfully finally seems to find his voice again.

“Erm, Mr. Stark? Do you know where we’re going?”

Tony laughs. It’s easy, somehow, around Peter. Even with the grief that hangs thick around the kid and makes Tony’s heart clench in a way that always makes him think he’s two seconds away from a heart attack, being around Peter can always make him smile.

“No idea, kid,” Tony confesses with a shrug. “But I’m pretty sure we can find her in the office space.”

“Oh,” Peter says, frowning. “Is that where we’re going then? Because, I don’t want to alarm you, Mr. Stark, but I think the office space’s in the other direction…”

Tony laughs again. “Of course not. We’re going to the kitchen first. Pep’s been dealing with what’s left of SI’s board all morning, she deserves a pick-me-up or she’ll probably murder us. Well, she’ll murder me anyway — she loves you.” 

“Well, I’m very lovable,” Peter retorts with a quicksilver grin, and Tony grins back, swatting his arm gently.

(Not that he needs to, the kid’s muscles have muscles. Goddamned freaking radioactive spider bites.)

For an instant, though, it’s almost like nothing ever happened. Like Thanos never came, and Tony’s just kidnapped his ‘intern’ for a day showing off all of his newest toys to the kid, half-heartedly trying to convince him to join the Avengers again by dropping not-so-subtle clues about it that Peter would reject shyly.

But of course everything has. This isn’t a fun day out on Peter’s holidays or weekends, it’s every day now, because school’s been canceled since the Snap and the kid’s aunt is probably dead, as are most of his friends.

Tony’s been luckier than most to keep the Avengers, Pepper and Rhodey (and Peter, oh god, he can’t imagine what he’d be like if he’d lost Peter), but Peter really hasn’t been as lucky.

Instead of saying anything else, Tony sighs and turns his loose hold on Peter’s shoulders into a tight embrace.

They must look stupid, hugging in the middle of a random corridor, but Peter clings to him and sobs in his shirt, and Tony wouldn’t dare to let go for the world.

“It’s going to be okay,” he mumbles out into the kid’s hair, and fights back tears of his own.

He hopes the world won’t make a liar out of him again.

* * *

They do actually find Pepper in the office space. Tony does an inner triumphant dance, and outwardly shoots Peter a very mature gloating look.

“My tribute to our overlord,” he jokes with a grin as he offers Pepper a muffin and a steaming cup of coffee. “How’s the kingdom?”

Pepper greets them tiredly — her smile, Tony notes fondly, is noticeably softer for Peter — and bites into the muffin hungrily as she answers, “Terrible. You sure you don’t want it back?”

Tony snorts. “I’d probably go insane in a week, kill everyone and declare myself a supervillain if I did, and nobody needs that right now,” he replies, only half-joking.

Board meetings are definitely not something he misses, and the fact that they’re still happening as the entire world struggles not to crumble with half its workforce randomly turned to ashes is only proof of how hellish they are.

Behind Pepper’s back, the screen lights up with Johnson’s face — ugh, of all the board members to have survived the Snap too — and Tony frantically blinks and grimaces until Friday picks up his intentions and shuts down the call.

“Did you just —” Peter starts, and Tony panics and shoves the second muffin he’d carried into the kid’s mouth to shut him up.

They both immediately freeze and turn their head to find Pepper staring at them very judgmentally.

Tony very slowly lets his hand drop while Peter swallows and raises his right hand to grab the part of the muffin sticking out of his mouth. “Thanks?” he asks, bewildered, through a mouthful of food.

Pepper shakes her head fondly. “I saw that, you know?” she tells Tony, her eyes shining with amusement. “You didn’t have to do that to poor Peter.”

“He looked hungry,” Tony lies.

Pepper snorts. “You do realize I’ll have to deal with Johnson eventually, right?”

Tony rolls his eyes. “And you know if you answer too quickly he’ll ask for more,” he counters.

Pepper hums, swinging her legs and licking the last crumbs of her muffin off her lips.

(God, Tony loves her so much. He’s so grateful she’s still here.)

“What do you propose then?” she asks, arching an inquisitive eyebrow.

Tony looks back at the kid, who is still munching his way through his muffin — ah, to have the metabolism of a spider mutant teenager. He shakes his head fondly.

“I was thinking we could have a look into that thing,” he says, looking at her meaningfully.

Pepper, bless her, understands him instantly. Her eyebrows go up as she stares back at Peter. “Now?”

“Now,” Tony confirms, fighting a losing battle to keep hold of his excitement.

He turns back to Peter, who stares back, unsure. He grins and beckons him forward. “Come on, kid, sit down.”

Gingerly, Peter does, shuffling closer as Pepper pulls the monitors closer to them. She shuts down all SI related pages with a swift hand, Tony notes proudly — she’s so much better than him at not getting lost in her work, and she also loves what Tony’s always just called ‘boring bureaucratic stuff’ and pulls up the property list Tony had suggested they look into one sleepless night.

They have so much more of those recently, but having a goal to fall back on as they wake has helped.

Maybe it can help Peter too.

Tony hopes so anyway — and he knows Pepper does too. 

“What are you looking for?” Peter finally asks after a few moments staring at the files Pepper pulls up. A lot of them are blueprints of warehouses or other such buildings Tony owned or had inherited from his parents, and as such, they’d already discarded them, but this way, they can include Peter in the process more.

Tony always loves it when he and Pepper are on the same wavelength.

“A house,” Tony answers. “I love this place, but I built it for the Avengers and we’re not…” He clears his throat and changes the subject with faked cheer. 

“Pepper and I are going to be newlyweds soon, and we don’t want the whole clique around for that,” he says, winking at his fiance, who doesn’t even flinch at the innuendo.

Peter, for the first time in forever, lights up. “You’re still getting married?”

Tony startles. He looks back at Pepper, who stares back at him.

_ Talk to him, _ her eyes seem to say.

_ Why me??  _ Tony whines back in a pout.

Pepper’s glare hardens.  _ Because he likes you, Tony. _

She doesn’t mention the f-word, luckily, but it hangs there, between them, anyway, a silent ghost Tony doesn’t think he’ll ever get rid of.

Tony bites back a shiver and heaves a sigh, turning back to Peter.

“Yeah, we’re still getting married.” His voice turns fond without his input, and his hand finds Pepper’s, squeezing it tightly. “You’re invited, of course,” he adds, because he’d sent Peter’s original wedding invitation to his aunt.

May had been going to share it with him after his exams — she had known, just as Tony did, that the news would have distracted him — and Tony, eager in a way he still isn’t very keen to examine to get May to stop looking at him like she wanted to murder him, had agreed readily.

Well, after only some minor pouting, at least.

“Really?” Peter’s eyes are wide and bright in a way that makes Tony’s throat feel uncomfortably tight, and he clears his throat.

“Yup,” he replies, popping out the p. Pepper runs her thumb across the back of his hand, and Tony exhales quietly, his shoulders shedding some tension. “We don’t have a date yet, but we’re thinking soon.”

He doesn’t say that they don’t want to waste anymore time, but they’re all thinking it anyway.

Out loud, Tony continues, “Our main issue so far is dragging my honey bun from the military for a day.” He pouts when Pepper snorts.

“Rhodey’s schedule is… complicated,” she says, very diplomatically. “So while we try to find a date — and no, Tony, we are not kidnapping him,” she interjects sternly before Tony can even open his mouth for what is a very sensible suggestion.

“We’d give him back,” he whines. To his great pride, Peter has to stifle a laugh while Pepper rolls her eyes at him, her lips quirked up into a fond smile.

“Rhodey vetoed all kidnapping for this year,” she reminds him, and Tony’s heart twists painfully at the reminder.

They all know why Rhodey’s so busy — and will keep being busy.

It’s the elephant in the room — the one issue Tony failed to solve.

The one issue that cost them half the universe.

(Or rather, everything.)

Pepper’s face flashes with grief before her smile eases into something gentler. “Anyway,” she says, pushing the monitor closer to Peter, “we’ve been looking for a place to go.”

“Oh.” Tony watches as Peter’s face falls, just a little, before he hides it behind an eager grin. “What are you looking for?”

Tony looks back at Pepper, who nods at him again.  _ Talk to him, _ her eyes shout at him, as if it is that easy.

But maybe it should be, he thinks as he watches Peter’s eyes shine with barely buried fear and pain. He’s almost lost the kid too many times already, and the kid has lost… everyone who matters in his life.

Tony’s lost people too, but the ones who matter to him — Pepper, Rhodey, Happy and Peter… 

(The Avengers, even.)

They’re all still here.

And he’s tried the whole superhero frat house before and it failed spectacularly, so he’s not going to make another attempt. Not when Thor’s already got one foot out of the door already — the people he needs to care for a better excuse than most have — and when he and Steve still can’t look each other in the eye or talk without it turning bitter.

But this would be different. This would be Peter, yet another wizkid who somehow wormed his way into Tony’s life, and maybe trying to make  _ him _ stay won’t backfire horribly on him.

Besides, he thinks ruefully as Pepper shoots him an encouraging smile, at least he won’t be alone on this.

On the monitor, he idly taps on one of the properties he and Pepper had outlined as a potential option.

The blueprints for the house — a smaller property than he’d have thought he owned — pop up instantly, as do the images of the lake nearing the house.

“Do you like this one?” he asks. “We thought the lake might be fun on warm summer days, and it apparently freezes in winter too, so free ice rink.”

Tony frowns, staring at the pictures of the lake and remembering Peter was born and raised in New York. “Wait, can you swim?”

“What — I — Mr. Stark, of course I can swim!” Peter sputters out, and Tony exhales an internal sigh of relief.

They won’t have to strike this house from the list, then.

“But wait, what do you mean?” Peter continues, quickly wringing his hands over his lap. “Why do you want my opinion on this?” His eyes look guarded still, but his head swivels between the two of them quickly, like he’s waiting for them to dash the hopes he doesn’t want to admit to having.

Ton’s mouth runs dry, and he shoots Pepper a panicked look.

His first instinct is to make a joke of it, of course, but this thing with Peter is… fragile. He doesn’t want to risk hurting the kid if he can help it, but sometimes hurting people seems to be all he can do.

Blessedly, Pepper is there to look at him encouragingly, with that gentle but forceful smile that makes Tony feel like he could accomplish anything, and he sighs.

His heart pounds in his chest, and he wipes his hands on his thighs. Ugh, why are they so sweaty?

“I told you,” he repeats, and the words stick in his mouth like honey, only less sweet and not as pleasant (so nothing like honey, really), “you can come and stay with me. Us. With us.” He chuckles nervously and looks away, keeping his gaze firmly between Pepper and Peter so he can pretend he doesn’t notice how they’re reacting. “I know it’s not the same, but you should have a place to stay. A house.”

_ A home, _ he doesn’t say, and winces quietly.

“You don’t have to, of course,” Pepper interjects kindly. “Not if you’d rather stay here. But Tony insisted we offer you a choice, and I obviously agree with him.”

Tony’s ‘Lies and slander!’ quipped retort dies on his lips as he takes in Peter’s quickly watering eyes.

“You really don’t have to!” he blurts out, awkwardly trying to pat the kid on the back and ignore the panic bubbling in his chest. Tony’s brain is already caught on a loop of the past few minutes, wondering what he could (and should) have done differently to avoid leading them here, and it makes him want to break out in hives.

He forces himself to stay very still, and keeps patting the kid on the back instead, mumbling out rapid nonsense he can feel Pepper growing increasingly confused by as she too tries to comfort the kid.

“No, no,” Peter says through his tears. “I want to. I mean, if you do.” He heaves a trembling sigh, fingers twisted in the hem of his shirt. “It’s just… If I say yes, it’d mean… it’s mean…”

He can’t finish the thought, but Tony gets it anyway. His mouth goes dry, and he shoots Pepper another panicked look.

Luckily, Pepper is still infinitely better than him at feelings.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she says, shifting until she can gently pull Peter into a hug, “I’m sure your aunt wouldn’t blame you for anything. She’d want you to be safe — and this doesn’t have to be forever. It can be as temporary as you want it to be,” she adds.

Tony’s heart aches as Peter keeps crying. He doesn’t know what he says — something about building the kid another house, or giving him an apartment if he’d rather, or, or  _ anything _ he’d like, really, until Peter’s tears subside and get replaced with a more familiar panic as he tries to keep Tony from spending his money on him.

Not that he’s ever been very successful with that, but for some reason, the kid keeps trying.

“I think a room will be enough, Tony,” Pepper says, his eyes laughing at him, and Peter nods emphatically.

He chuckles wetly, leaning out of Pepper’s embrace (which, why would anyone ever want to do that?) and wiping off his cheeks with a sniffle. “Yes, please, Mr. Stark, I don’t need a house. What would I even do with that?”

Tony shrugs. “What do people do with houses? I’m sure you’d manage.” A sharp look from Pepper has him pouting as he sighs. “But fine, a room. You can have a room. A great room. The best room.”

As he’d hoped, it draws out another wet chuckle from Peter, and something inside Tony’s chest eases, just a little.

Yeah, maybe the world has ended, but they’re still here. Still alive — and if they can still smile and laugh sometimes, then maybe there’s hope still.

Hope that they’ll get through this somehow.

* * *

They’re all gathered in the kitchen, eating pasta that tastes kind of like ash even though Tony knows they’re great, when his phone rings.

“Oh thank god,” he hears Natasha whisper in a cough as the ringing breaks through the awkward silence.

Tony had meant to have this dinner as a sort of celebration to Peter agreeing to move in with them — you know, when they eventually move out — but whatever celebratory mood they’d had had fizzled out very quickly after he’d made his announcement.

Weathering Steve’s guilty and sad eyes gives him hives still, and Tony hates it.  _ You should be guilty, _ he thinks bitingly as he stabs his fork into his pasta, and regrets it instantly.

Luckily, he never said anything out loud so he doesn’t have to apologize either.

“Friday? Who’s calling?” Tony hastily swallows his last bite, nearly choking on it in his haste. If it’s someone from the company who somehow got around Pepper…

(“How are they calling?” Steve interjects confusedly in the background, easy to ignore. “I thought the phone lines were still, you know, mostly down?”

“It’s Tony,” Natasha whispers back, and her tone is as always perfectly balanced between amusement, disdain and ‘this is obvious’ as she says his name.)

Friday takes a second to answer, which means she’s surprised, and Tony’s heart starts to race again.

Please don’t let it be more bad news. They can’t take those again right now.

“The call seems to be originating from a Mr. Keener,” Friday finally replies.

Tony staggers to his feet. “What?” His voice sounds strangled to his ears — is he panicking again? Hallucinating? “Keener? Harley Keener?”

“Yes, boss. Should I connect the line?”

Pepper’s hand finds his and squeezes, and Tony takes in a deep gulp of air. “Yes. Yes, of course.”

Friday doesn’t answer, but there’s a click, and then silence for a moment before the kid’s voice comes through.

“Mr. Mechanic? Is this working? Your robot lady said it would be.”

Tony closes his eyes for a moment, overwhelmed. He squeezes Pepper’s hand back and clears his throat. “Yup, it is. And I’ve told you, Friday’s not a robot lady, she’s an AI, they’re much, much better.”

Harley’s voice breaks off into a sob before steadying. Tony hears him saying something, a thank you maybe, but his ears are ringing too loudly to hear it clearly.

He barely registers the rest of the Avengers quickly clearing out the room, leaving only Pepper, Peter and him behind.

Tony clears his throat again, and is pretty proud of the way it barely shakes.

God, but he’d barely thought about Harley before now. Hadn’t dared to let himself think about it, because what if…

And now Harley’s calling him despite phone lines still being down for pretty much anything not emergency services-related, and of course he is.

Of course he is. The kid’s too brilliant by half, and he wouldn’t have let this go. Only if he’s calling…

If he’s calling, it means he’s probably alone.

His throat goes tight and he exchanges a panicked look with Pepper, who stares back steadily with glistening eyes. He looks to Peter too, and the boy looks confused but also kind of happy — does he know who Harley is? Tony had had vague plans to introduce them,  _ before, _ but he can’t remember if those plans had been anything real or if they’d still just been in his head.

“Are you…” _ okay _ sounds stupid, because of course the kid isn’t okay — nobody is right now — so Tony cuts himself off and says instead, “How are you?”

“Alive,” Harley retorts bluntly, and there is a world of pain in that word that lances through Tony’s chest like knives.

“Your —”

“I’m the only one,” Harley cuts him off, and Pepper’s hand squeezes his so tightly Tony thinks he hears his bones scream.

“I’m sorry,” he hears himself say, and it’s not enough, it could never be enough, but it’s the best he can think to say.

“Do you need anything?” he adds after a breath, rallying because he’s  _ Tony Stark, _ and he may not have saved the world this time — the universe — but he’ll be damned if he lets this kid down even more after everything.

“Can I — I mean, I’m coming over. Where are you?”

Harley’s determined tone startles a laugh out of him, though Tony doesn’t know why he’s surprised, really. Harley’s tough as nails — tougher, really — and he unfortunately already knows how welcome he is in Tony’s space.

(Kids. Give them an inch, they’ll take an arm.)

“We’re at the Avengers compound, Harley,” Pepper, the saint, replies, already working on a tablet she’d materialized from… somewhere to organize an itinerary, no doubt complete with everything the kid might need or want. “We’ll send someone to pick you up,” stressing out the ‘someone’ while glaring at Tony with her  _ so help me god  _ glare.

Which, unfair. He’d only just begun to think about going to pick up the kid himself.

Besides, Tony’s smart. He knows he’d probably still collapse halfway there if he went, and maybe traumatize the kid further that way (odds are fifty-fifty though, because Harley’s still the kid who basically shocked him back to life once after watching people nearly explode). 

He’s learned from his mistakes, okay. He knows his limits.

(Mostly.)

He can be reasonable.

_ I can be reasonable, _ he mouths at Pepper, still talking to Harley, and Pepper rolls her eyes back at him.

_ Sure you are, _ she mouths back, and Tony turns to Peter in betrayal, only to find the kid muffling his snicker into his sleeve.

He still looks dumbstruck, and worn out around the edges, but the glint of amusement in his eyes does just as much to lift Tony’s spirits than hearing Harley’s voice had.

He lets the conversation wash over him after that, interjecting here and there when Harley quips a little too much, or when he seems like he’s heading toward dangerous territory (his sister, or his mother, mostly, especially when Pepper tells him he can pack whatever he wants in his house or they can get someone else to do it for him if he’d rather not), and before he knows it, the conversation’s over.

Harley hangs up with his characteristic “See you later” but Tony hears the thanks and the relief in his voice, and he exchanges another long look with Pepper, who looks back to Peter pointedly.

Which, right. Shit.

Tony turns to the  _ other _ kid (his other kid? shit, has he acquired two kids now? who thought that was a good idea?), wincing a little.

“So… That was Harley,” he says, and his words kind of abandon him there, which is the worst. Tony’s usually great at words.

Peter nods. He seems happy-ish still, but also… smaller. “Is he… Nevermind.”

Tony arches an eyebrow at him. “No, come on, don’t do that, I want to hear. What’s up?”

Peter’s cheeks flush red and he starts picking at his sleeve. He clears his throat. For some reason, he glances at Pepper before looking away, but when Tony turns toward her she only looks amused.

“Is he, you know, yours?” Peter’s voice squeaks over the last words and he looks like he’d like the ground to open up and swallow him, or perhaps like he’d like the Snap to take him away right there (whoops, too soon, even for Tony’s own terrible sense of humor).

There is a moment where Tony’s brain doesn’t compute —  _ yours? _ what, why, how — and then it does, and he sputters, choking on his own spit.

“I — What —  _ No! _ No — Pete, Petey, have you been reading the tabloids? I told you not to believe those, they’re trash.” Trash’s too kind a word, even, but it suffices for now. “I don’t have kids.”

Peter’s face, if possible, seems even redder as he apologizes, but Tony just waves it off.

“It’s fine. Kid just helped me out a few years back, and I’ve kind of been keeping an eye on him — he’s smart, can’t have him go to the competition.”

“I… see,” Peter replies, in a tone that makes it very clear he does not see at all.

Despite himself, Tony’s lips quirk up into a small grin. “You’ll get on fine, I think.” He hopes, anyway. Peter’s great, of course, and he’ll probably befriend anyone, and Harley's obviously also great, but slightly more… caustic.

Well, if anything, they can bond over how amazing Tony is.

* * *

Harley arrives with the sun two days later, Happy on his heels with a ratty suitcase fit to burst.

His eyes are red-rimmed as he walks in, and he doesn’t even have the decency to look impressed to be standing in  _ the _ Avengers compound. Truly, the youth of today.

“You look like crap, Mechanic,” he says as he steps in, and Steve’s feet jerk as he aborts a step forward.

He looks almost constipated with the need to correct the kid’s language — even though Steve’s mouth is the dirtiest of them all — and that, just as much as Harley’s own words and Peter’s shocked face makes him laugh.

It’s the first time Tony really laughs since… Everything.

“Well, you haven’t changed,” he replies with a snort, and steps up to tuck the boy against his side in a half-hug he’ll pretend hasn’t happened in a few seconds.

Or minutes, minutes are good too.

_ I’m glad you’re alive, _ he doesn’t say — mostly because the words stick in his throat and give him hives already, but also because he thinks the kid might cry more if he says them, and Tony can’t handle tears right now.

He’ll start crying too if Harley does, and then everyone else will cry because they’re all hanging on by a thread right now, and if they all collapse Tony’s not sure they’ll all manage to get back up again.

So he doesn’t say anything, and lets the kid go instead.

It’s okay, though. Harley’s there, and Peter’s here, and so’s Pepper. Even Happy’s around, and if Rhodey wasn’t out there trying to save whatever remains of their world while Tony tries to piece himself back together  _ again, _ then all the people he loves would be in one place.

He has been, Tony realizes with a belated kind of horror, lucky.

Really lucky, that he gets to have this.

And soon, he might even have more — a proper house for his family, with  _ two _ rooms for the boys (because of course they’re taking Harley home with them too now that he’s here — social services might come knocking around at some point but they’re probably as overworked as every other public service office).

Maybe he’ll really retire this time, too. He should, at least, because what good is a hero who couldn’t save anyone?

What good are the Avengers, is  _ Iron Man, _ when Tony couldn’t stop Thanos before it was too late, and couldn’t even help stop him after?

What good is one man, when the  _ universe _ itself got broken in half?


End file.
